


“I Will Just Hold You Instead”

by Aliada



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AND IT IS, Although there is a healthy amount of suffering before everything is well again, Angst, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mentions of Death, Overall it's not as grim as it sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliada/pseuds/Aliada
Summary: Kili had never seen Fili cry. Until that day.
Relationships: Fíli & Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	“I Will Just Hold You Instead”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlmarvel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlmarvel/gifts).



> This is a Raffle Prize for the incredible damnitfili (girlmarvel) who requested an angsty Fili story. Hope you'll like it!
> 
> That’s basically 3,5K of Fili going through an important emotional experience, which helps him understand that crying is okay, and so is accepting comfort. Of course, he doesn’t do it on his own :)

Kili had never seen Fili cry. Of course he knew that he might have cried at some point, but he had never witnessed it firsthand. He’d seen disappearing trails of wetness on Fili’s cheeks, and he’d heard suspicious, muffled sounds, restricted but at the same time, powerful enough to never be restricted completely. He’d seen Fili’s grief reflected through his eyes, but he’d never seen his eyes fill with tears. He imagined they would change in color, and the mere thought of it was making him sad. Kili preferred not to think of such things, and yet the thoughts returned, over and over again, making him painfully attentive to any change in Fili’s expression.

Kili’s memory of their father’s death was but a vague, distorted image. He remembered being upset. He remembered crying while not quite understanding the reason for it. He knew that his father was gone, but that frightening, ruthless ‘never’ had not yet registered in his mind, and he fervently, desperately didn’t want it to. That was probably why he clung to Fili and refused to let go. Fili had always made nightmares disappear. Fili fixed things, made them better. So, back then, it seemed perfectly logical to Kili that disappearance of all bad things depended solely on his brother. And even now, it still remained one of the most logical things in his world.

The bad thing didn’t go away, but neither did Kili’s belief in Fili. And it was exactly what pushed them through. It was also one of the first times when Fili thanked him. They’ve been thanking each other before of course (which probably had to do with their mother’s ‘don’t be like your uncle’ reminders), but Kili always had a clear idea as to why he was thanked. That time, he was surprised. He’d been crying and asking Fili to hug him tighter and Fili had thanked him for it? That made very little sense to him back then. He’d asked Fili of course, but the answer made him even more baffled.

But now, looking at Fili’s shiny, exhausted eyes and feeling a slight tremble in his body pressed desperately to his, Kili had a pretty good guess as to the meaning of that answer. So he said the only thing that counted.

“I’m sorry, Fili.”

***

Fili had only cried a few times, or at least that was what he wanted himself to believe. Kili seemed to believe it, too. And it was fine. At times, it was even more than just fine.

Fili liked being a big brother. Initially, he was rather confused by the concept, but soon enough, the reality, the practice of it left him unable to imagine the mere possibility of a different life. By introducing Kili, his life not only took a new turn, but also pushed him into admitting that it was the most natural turn ever taken. In childhood, he used to be proud of his big brother duties. He would hold Kili’s hand while his little brother learned to walk. He would pick him up and soothe him when he fell. Looking back, he now realized that they both assumed these roles without giving it a second thought. Whereas Kili sure had his generous share of tantrums and sulks, fights were a rare occurrence between them, and serious fights an ever rarer one. Throughout the years, Kili’s endearing clinging (existence of which, in Kili’s strong opinion, was highly debatable) transformed into surprisingly subtle episodes of amusements as he developed a habit of listening to Fili’s protective rants and answer by rolling his eyes or answering with some joke, which, for some annoying reason, almost never failed in forcing a laugh out of Fili. And after that part of their interaction was done with, they were back to being most loyal allies in whatever mischief they were planning.

Sometimes, when Fili’s rants became especially heated, Kili’s eyes took on a belligerent, stubborn sparkle, which seemed very far from being an indicator of amusement, and, to Fili’s slight irritation, was far less handlable. Their fights were still rare, but there was a new quality to them. A quality which was now making Fili’s eyes well up with frustration. 

Fili’s tears were even rarer than their fights with Kili. It was the day of their father’s death that he’d consciously decided that he would not let them come. No, they would remain there, in the burning part of his soul where they belonged. Kili would not see him shake, and sob, and look completely and utterly messy. Kili didn’t need mess. He needed a big, safe, warm brother who would dry out his tears and wrap him up in something even warmer. That burning inside Fili was warm enough, and he was sure that, once out, his tears would be even warmer. Salty and warm, that’s what they would be. But he also knew that Kili needed none of that. What he needed was for his brother’s eyes to stay dry. And Fili would grant him that silent request.

So he put his arms around a trembling Kili and listened to the burning part, feeling the pain bleed away further and further inside, until there was seemingly no trace of it. He never checked, but he knew for certain that if he tried crying after that, after those gradually increasing ‘thats’ _,_ he would not be able to. The urge, so eloquent at the time, simply went away. Sometimes, he could physically feel it leave and his only response would be to cuddle Kili closer still. Sometimes, instead of appearing it seemed to stumble upon an invisible block and bleed into something different. Long, dull-edged sadness. Anger. A sudden switch to reasoning. The last option would have been a responsible thing to do, and it was. But it also was a miserable, _lonely_ thing, as Fili came to learn.

Still, it was how they functioned: Kili had breakdowns and Fili comforted him, sneaking away to dry his own eyes when the pressure became unbearable. Never the other way around. Fili knew that Kili wished it to be different. Or at least he thought it to be his wish, and Fili had long ago convinced himself that it wasn’t. If only he could say the same about _his_ wishes.

That day, the day when he realized that his father would one day become a distant memory, wasn’t cold, windy or rainy as it often happens in stories of a similar kind. It was a perfectly pleasant day. Even worse, it was also the last day of their favorite month. Everything was deeply green and the sky looked as if it was going to drown them in its confusingly attractive infinity. Kili had woken up earlier that day. It was a struggle keeping him in bed per se, but that day his energy seemed to double in size. Fili, only having gotten his four pitiful hours of sleep, was feeling heavily irritated. He could even remember his precise thoughts, and Kili’s reaction when those thoughts were out in the open. He frowned and ran off, leaving a suddenly guilty Fili in his wake, which subsequently meant a lot of apologizing and hugging afterwards. That day, they got no chance to do either. Or, more precisely, they did it all, but for an entirely different reason.

Fili was standing when the news came. His legs didn’t betray him and he didn’t cry. Instead, he froze on the spot, seeing and hearing nothing for a split second. And afterwards, he had but one thought. _Kili_. He didn’t think of the tragedy, or of his now dead father. He didn’t not think of never seeing him again. He didn’t think of the pain that would follow. Every single of his existing thoughts revolved around Kili. He wouldn’t be able to tell him himself, but he needed to at least _be there_ when the news was delivered. The only thought of seeing his little brother’s reaction hit him with nausea, and yet, missing it and leaving him alone felt like the worst possible betrayal.

So he saw it all. He saw Kili’s eyes widen in confusion, reach for fear and finally settle on heart-wrenching helplessness. And of course, Kili cried. The predictable reaction touched something in Fili’s heart. It wasn’t hope, it couldn’t be. But the suffocating feeling in his chest seemed to ease up a little, allowing him to take yet another full breath.

Kili didn’t fully understand what happened, he simply couldn’t, and the knowledge of that was strangely comforting. Fili couldn’t undo it, or make it disappear, but the mere image of Kili crying in his arms bore a striking resemblance to a hundred of similar occurrences in the past. His brother was upset, and frightened, and desperate for comfort, and Fili would give him all the comfort he possessed. He would leave grieving for later.

Still, the tears in his eyes would not listen. They were soon tricking down his cheeks, threatening to break his resolve. So Fili did the only thing he could: he pulled Kili close, quickly hiding his face in his brother’s dark hair. For a few seconds, he felt them getting wet and wondered if Kili could feel that. But Kili seemed beyond caring now. His sobbing had already subdued to quiet sniffles, but the grip on Fili’s shoulders only seemed to tighten if anything else. It was painful. And wonderful at the same time. As if echoing Kili’s willingness to hold on, the burning in his eyes quieted as well, evoking a sudden, clear feeling he had never known before. So Fili kissed the top of his brother’s head and pulled him away. The feeling only seemed to intensify at the sight of almost unnatural brightness in Kili’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

Fili wasn’t aware of his lips uttering these words, but when he was met with Kili’s confused, but far less helpless eyes, he also was suddenly given a good idea as to the question, and answer, that would follow.

“Why?” Kili asked, in a rough, hushed voice.

“Because you are here,” Fili answered.

He knew that Kili wouldn’t understand the meaning, but it was no matter. He was not sure he understood it either. But that was going to change the truth: no matter the pain, no matter the fright or uncertainty, his path always led him to one inescapable, always-there conclusionOne condition that could never be overlooked. All his questions and all his answers, wrapped in the sound of a four-letter name, so similar to his own. _Kili_.

A new burning wave shot right through him, giving him no choice but to turn his head and freeze on spot. He would grieve later. He would. He would find a quiet, lonely place and cry. He just needed to hold it in for a few more hours. He needed to be strong.

And so he was. Later, Kili was asleep and a perfectly quiet place was found with no one to bother him or bear a witness to his tears. He could cry and sob and relieve himself of the pain. And yet, for some unfathomable reason, he couldn’t. His eyes stayed dry that night. He couldn’t sleep but he couldn’t cry either. He could only lie in the dark and listen to his own heartbeat. The burning was still there, but instead of his eyes, it had now settled somewhere deep in his chest, reaching sometimes to his throat. He was afraid of choking, but he never choked. And the worst part was that this thought was not comforting in the least.

***

Fili hated being sleep-deprived, but now that particular feeling was hidden under the thick layer of excitement, pushing him closer and closer to edge of his abilities and warming his body with unsteady, but intoxicatingly pleasant euphoria. Kili wasn’t far behind. In fact, he was very much ahead, running around and spending what seemed to be a ridiculous amount of energy. It was no surprise for Fili that Kili was in possession of incredible amounts of energy, eager to be let out, but today that energy had a different quality to it. Rushed. Reckless. Over the top. Fili had learned long ago to be mindful of that particular combination in his brother, and especially of what brought it on in the first place. Thanks to Kili’s open demeanor, it was never too difficult to find the reason. Eliminating it, however, required an in-depth understanding of Kili’s usual patterns of behavior or, to put it simply, Kili Handling Skills, as Fili dubbed them.

Today, Kili was in no mood to be handled or as much as talked to. On the surface, he was his usual up-for-anything cheery self, but Fili knew that it would take one careless comment for that surface to fall away and reveal something else. Recognizing his own shaky emotions, Fili preferred to let it remain in place.

In rare (but still very much existing) moments of quiet, his mind was once again attacked by the images of half-baked, but no less irritating nightmares. Following disturbing logic of his chaotic slumber, they came in fragments, shattered pieces, but he still understood them perfectly. No full pictures were needed to recognize the meaning, and that meaning was woefully successful in souring his mood for the rest of the day.

A pretend-happy Kili kept chattering away, and although clearly aware of the illusion that this happiness was, Fili found himself strangely comforted by it. It was once again as it was in their childhood. A light, but insistent push back to the times when everything was simple and easily solvable. In truth, it was simple still. Most of the time, it really was, Fili couldn’t deny that without being unfair. No matter the world around them, he could always rely on their world being a definition to simplicity and, most of all, real, instead of supposed, _belonging_. It felt warm, and a single glance at Kili was enough to tell him that this warmth wasn’t likely to ever go away. It curled gently inside of him, soothing the parts he didn’t know were aching. He hoped, Kili could feel it too. Their eyes met, and something began burning intensely inside of Fili. It was a familiar burn, but it also was not. His Kili was looking moody and defeated, and the sheer unnaturality of the sight stirred the increasingly feeling of guilt inside of him. So when his brother, falsely excited once again, aborted their ridiculously short rest and urged him to move on, Fili could do little but indulge him.

It wasn’t Kili’s subsequent idea that made him nervous, it was the fact that Kili decided to execute it without telling him. They always shared with one another. It was a given. No matter how crazy or ridiculous the subject, they were always able to talk, laugh, and eventually arrive at a compromise. Together.

Fili tried to analyze bits and pieces of their recent, dishearteningly short-circuited conversations but ended up finding nothing. Kili was quick to joke and just as quick to take offence if Fili’s reaction didn’t satisfy him, but nothing in that revealed anything as _insane_ as jumping over a cliff in pursuit of a deer they absolutely _didn’t_ need, contrary to Kili’s attempts to prove him otherwise.

“What in Mahal’s name were you doing?”

Fili didn’t intend to shout, but a wild mixture of relief and anger left him with little choice. His hands were still on Kili, checking for any injuries and simultaneously trying to slow the beating of his own heart.

A second-long shocked expression on Kili’s face disappeared, giving way to his patented ‘What did I do wrong?’ theatrics.

Fili wanted to be angry, but a lump in his throat didn’t let him.

“It was going to escape, Fili! What could I do?”

“Not risk your life for a start!”

His voice was trembling now, and he could do nothing about that, except for squeezing Kili’s hand and trying to convince himself that everything was alright. He knew it must have hurt – a suddenly wide-eyed note in Kili’s otherwise defensive expression was enough of a proof – but he still couldn’t let go. Or bear Kili’s reluctance to pull away from him.

Fili lowered his head, no longer able to look, or breathe.

Kili squeezed his hand in response, making a strange sound.

Lifting his head was a mistake, but Fili only realized that as he was hit by a wave of intense compassion on his brother’s face. Compassion that he didn’t – _couldn’t_ – deserve but couldn’t go without.

He didn’t know which one of them initiated the hug, but the warmth, the relief of it gave him wobbly legs. Just like _that_ day, Kili was clinging to him with a grip that was both worrying and reassuring. But also comforting. That peculiar feeling that he’d experienced so long ago and which stayed, stubbornly, unwaveringly, inside of him wasn’t, as it turned out, all that peculiar. It was just as simple and logical as everything between them.

“Do you know why I’m so upset, Kili?”

Kili looked at him, his eyes serious and concerned.

“Because you can’t sleep?” he answered in a tentative, hushed voice, hurrying to add. “It’s alright. I also hate not getting enough sleep.”

Fili fought a prickle of irritation at that amusingly naïve answer and shook his head ‘no’. If it wasn’t for Kili’s genuine expression, he would’ve thought that he was being played with.

“Any other thoughts?”

Kili simply stared at him, his expression quickly settling on subtly grim.

Fili decided to test the waters once more.

“Why am I upset _with_ _you_?”

A flicker of disappointment on Kili’s face told him everything he needed to know. So, apparently, he _was_ played with, at lease to a point. The familiarity of it almost made him smile, but a memory of Kili landing the wrong way and nearly falling off quickly brought him back to reality.

“Because I didn’t catch the deer?” Kili offered, once again, with a daring gleam in his eyes.

By that time, Fili’s patience all but evaporated, leaving a trace of fond exasperation behind and learning into something far heavier.

“Because you nearly _died_ today, that’s why,” he answered, startled by the trembling in his own voice.

And judging by an anxious glance sent in his direction, Kili was startled as well.

“Because without you--“ he couldn’t push the words out, but their relentless presence in his mind made up for that in spades.

“I’m sorry, Fili,”

That quiet, remorse-filled voice almost seemed real, and so did wetness on his own cheeks. This time, there was no preliminary burn or tickling in his eyes. This time, there was no alarm that would warn him and make him take control. This time, there was _no control_.

Wrapping Kili in his arms and letting his tears damp Kili’s hair, he didn’t think about being a big brother. Or about being strong, warm and comforting. This time, he was the one taking comfort. Soaking it in like there was no tomorrow. Like he had been hungry for it all his life.

“I’m so sorry, Fili. I just… you were so sad, and for such a long time. I didn’t know what to do. I just felt myself getting sadder and sadder until…”

Fili let out a rough chuckle, giving Kili one more squeeze.

“Until you got mad.”

Kili gave a chuckle of his own and nodded his head urgently, as if trying to convince Fili that he wasn’t fibbing this time.

“I didn’t like this at all, Fili. It felt bad, and lonely, and _not us_ , you know? But there was something wrong with you, and I didn’t know how to… fix it.”

An earlier version of Fili would probably tell him that it wasn’t _his_ job to fix things and that he got their respective roles a little bit confused. But present Fili, who was still under the impression of sudden, crushing relief brought upon by the seemingly unnecessary ritual of crying, could not do so.

Instead, he let his mind wander right into that night when he didn’t cry. When he didn’t let go of pain and let it rule over him.

“Do you remember that day? The ‘thank-you’ day?” he whispered, half aware of the fact that these words were not just in his mind.

Kili pulled away to look at him, blinking some tears of his own.

“I do. You thanked me and I didn’t know why. Then you told me but I still didn’t know why,” he whispered, making Fili’s breath stick in his throat in half-awe half-astonishment.

Kili remembered. His Kili somehow remembered that far-away moment that existed at the back of his mind ever since.

“Did _you_ know why?” Kili asked again, surprising him once again.

“No. I only pretended I did,” Fili answered, suddenly able to smile. “But I know now, so don’t even try holding that over me.”

His cautionary words turned out to be absolutely redundant as he was once again wrapped into a warm hug.

“I think I will just hold _you_ instead,” came the response, followed by a quiet, “If you don’t mind?”

Fili didn’t mind at all, and he made that perfectly obvious by returning the hug and planting a kiss to the top of Kili’s head.

He definitely knew the answer now, and an overwhelming sense of peace deep inside him was the greatest testimony to its correctness.


End file.
